George noticed
by HayleyLouise
Summary: How did George start noticing Hermione? Well, here's a little imagining of mine. Infrequent updates, be warned! Will be AU, once story is mapped out
1. Chapter 1

George hadn't always loved her. In fact, he hadn't even always liked her. Not that he hated her, of course. But he was the reserved one, out of him and Fred. He was always aware that half formed opinions are just that – half formed. No use hating someone just because you're not sure about them. It wasn't until his and Fred's fourth year at Hogwarts that he realised he had a proper opinion on Hermione Granger – and he thought she was lovely, really. She was always making sure Ron didn't get himself into too much trouble, as well as helping him with his homework, she was usually very nice to everybody, and treated the twins with feigned disregard – always masked with a little caution, which was just the way he and Fred liked it, if they were honest. He would never have said he fancied her, not back then. More that she caught his eye every now and then. He noticed when she was upset (which was usually Ron's fault), and when she was happy; he just noticed her. It was never a conscious thing. In fact, he might never have realised without Fred pointing out that he was staring down the table at a certain bushy haired know-it-all entirely too often for his liking – obviously George assured Fred that he was keeping an eye on their icklest brother and the famous boy who lived, even though Fred clearly never believed him (although he never called him out for it back then, either).

It wasn't until halfway through Hermione's third year, his fifth, that he noticed something was wrong. Hermione seemed to appear out of nowhere, after she'd say she was on her way to somewhere else. She'd also hurry off for no apparent reason, midway through a conversation, and even George couldn't keep up with her. Even he knew that Granger couldn't spend that much time in the library. He managed to catch up with her once, and she quickly found a broom cupboard to hide in. For a few weeks, George convinced himself she must either have a secret snogging partner, or a secret book hiding in there (more likely to be a book, really!).

Until he found out for himself, that is. See, turns out the knowledgable little witch had a time turner! Astounded, George managed to keep silent throughout the whole explanation, and actually meant it when he swore not to tell another soul (because Fred didn't count, he's his other half!). He kept a closer eye on her then, and noticed she wasn't eating as much, looked tired, and was less interested in Ron and Harry's conversations than usual. Something just had to be done.

Hermione seemed even more exasperated than usual with her two idiot friends, and George was starting to feel her pain. Ron was never very good at picking up social cues, and Harry was far too focused on, well, staying alive, really. Neither of the boys had seemed to notice Hermione's near-constant state of exhaustion, and Fred had given him a great idea – except that George wasn't sure she'd actually take his advice. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Angelina to agree to write the note, and he had done the rest.

George watched with anticipation as the morning post owls swooped low over tables, picking at bacon and dropping packages to the students. Hermione seemed confused to be receiving anything – he really should have thought this through a bit more – and slipped the note into her pocket, presumably so that the boys didn't steal it (good move, they were right nosy gits, if you asked him and Fred!). He wouldn't know if his plan worked or not… Well, not without following her around anyway, at least figuratively. George had, last minute, decided to put quite a finicky kind of tracking spell on the note. If Hermione held that note on her person for more than a few hours, it would wear off the note, but transfer to Hermione. George was just praying to Merlin that he'd done it right; he hated it when she shouted at him!

It wasn't until almost curfew that he would finally be put out of his misery. He used the tracking spell, and an orb of light flew out of his wand, almost like a tiny candle flame really, waiting for him to follow. And so he did.

If someone had told George that he'd be following a tiny ball of light around Hogwarts castle after curfew, he'd definitely have believed them. But it felt really strange to do something like this without Fred – who had his own ideas about where his twin might be! – and it was very exciting, all at the same time. He didn't have long to dwell on it mind, as the little orb smashed silently against the door to the prefects' bath, then shimmered into nothingness. That might come in handy – have to tell Fred about this!

George was trying to muster up the courage to knock on the door, when Hermione opened it, obviously finished, and almost bumped into him. 'Enjoy your bath, non prefect Granger?' He joked, with a glint of amusement in his eyes. 'Very much so. It was relaxing, to say the least, but I find it strange that Angelina felt the need to owl me about it. Don't you, George?' Hand on one hip, there was no doubting her teasing tone, especially with that smirk gracing her lips. Lips… George just couldn't help himself, and kissed her quite soundly, one arm round her waist and one hand in her hair. Once his mind un-fogged, and he realised what he'd done, he gaped at her. He couldn't apologise, not for a kiss like that! He couldn't run away either, that's something Ron would do. But for the life of him, he couldn't think of anything to say, so he decided to just wink at her and stroll off. Simple, charming, and a complete idiot. At least, that's what Fred would tell him the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

Anything not in third person is the thoughts of our characters. I uploaded this from my phone, and can't italicise it on here? Also, anything recognisable is NOT MINE! Enjoy!

It had been months since the kiss. Fred had torn George a new one for it, and then teased him relentlessly for what seemed like forever. Hermione had been confused for a while, but ultimately put it down to just another Weasley twin prank; the only option really, because George would never willingly kiss her. Right? In the still of the night, her heart would race as she thought of that kiss, his soft lips on hers, his strong hands in her hair and around her waist. Her first kiss. George bloody Weasley was her first kiss! He was not what Hermione thought to be her 'type', and yet she just couldn't stop thinking about him. The Yule ball was coming up, and she still didn't have a date – guess I'm going stag then – or alone, 'stag' is more of a male term, isn't it really? – and while she was hoping Ron would ask her to go as friends, she had hoped, in that hidden part of her where she revelled in kissing him, that George would eventually ask. So far, nothing.

Viktor finally plucked up the courage in the library, having spent a ridiculous amount of time watching Hermione study, and having had a few conversations with her, and she'd said yes. A boy (of age, so a man, really!) was interested in her. In her. Not for a prank, not for a dare, and it wasn't even to make anyone else jealous! Hermione was thrilled – not many people her age could say they had attended a function with an international quidditch star, after all! She wasn't prepared for the onslaught of Ron's idiocy though. Honestly, could that boy be anymore infuriating? Scratch that, he definitely could. Especially if he's hungry. But Hermione didn't care. In the space of three months, she'd had her first kiss, and been asked to accompany someone, as their date, to a very important ball. Ron could shove it.

Ron was a complete and utter arse! After weeks of telling her not to fraternise with the enemy, and finally admitting she was, in fact, a girl, he decided that just wasn't enough, and he had to ruin the entire night. As usual, Hermione ended up crying, all because of Ronald Bilius Weasley. Oh, but he was quick to fawn over me when he first saw me in my dress, wasn't he? And poor Viktor, he must be ever so confused! I'll have to send him a note or speak to him tomorrow, I really don't think I can face him again now! Ron, in his perpetual stupidity, had decided to try and embarrass Hermione in front of her date. Except, he'd only really managed to embarrass himself. He tried pointing out all of her flaws – or at least, what he perceived to be her flaws. Viktor handled it very well, focusing his attention on Hermione, trying his best to ignore the idiot making a fool of himself. Until Ron had asked how Viktor could ever be attracted to a bushy haired, snobby little bookworm, who he thought was just jealous of him his date. As if! Jealous of a girl he had to beg to go with him? I've half a mind to write to Mrs Weasley and – oh, now there's an idea! Viktor, ever the gentleman, had gotten very close to Ron and said some things she couldn't hear. Then the ginger idiot had the nerve to wink at her, and invite her up to the boys' dorms after she'd finished with 'this one' – and that was the straw that broke the camel's back. She'd had enough. Enough of the teasing, of the constant jibes, of feeling like she just wasn't good enough for this world, or even Ronald Weasley, the biggest prat on the planet. And so, that was how she ended up in a dark, abandoned classroom, crying over her irreparable friendship and her lost date. Crying unashamedly, loudly and looking ever so ugly, she hugged herself round the middle as she rocked back and forth, back against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. Ronald Weasley is an insufferable git. Why did I ever give him the time of day? Should have listened to mum and dad about him. Oh God, I can never go to the Burrow again! What will everyone think of me once Ron tells them what he thinks? She cried harder and louder than she could ever remember.

It was a few hours later before she finally felt ready to leave. She didn't bother trying to hide her red, tear stained face, or to tidy her hair. She was past caring, now. The castle was quiet, and still, so peaceful. Her shoes were off, tucked neatly under her arm, and her footsteps were almost silent as she padded along the corridors, taking time to stop and look at the paintings and tapestries she had read about so often in her favourite book. But suddenly there was a dark figure in front of her, taking her hand in theirs, like they were trying to guide her somewhere. Hermione would have been frightened, but she recognised those hands. 'George, what are you doing out in the corridors at this hour? I'd have thought you'd be asleep by now!' She whispered, a little worried for him. 'Fred's with a girl behind a tapestry, I'm lookout. All on my lonesome, you know. Hermione, are you alright?' He looked genuinely concerned, and she found she just couldn't answer him. She didn't want to talk about it with George, of all people, so she just stared at the floor. 'Ron's an idiot. He should have asked you to go. But I think he likes you as more than a friend, and he got a bit scared. It'll all be ok in the end, little Mia, just you watch, right?' He grinned at her, his handsome, lopsided, almost smirk of a grin. One that reminded her of a certain kiss she wasn't meant to think about anymore. Oh, he's talking again! Did I space out? Oh god, that's embarrassing! 'You haven't heard a word have you?' the redhead looked a bit bothered by this, but decided to shrug it off, quite literally, 'I'll walk you back to the common room, alright? Fred can cope without me, I'm sure. Oh dear, are you cold? Here, take my robes!' George handed her his robes, and the worried look on his face melted into a smile. Can't have her catching her death, can we? Christ, I need to tell Fred soon.

Nothing happened, this time. They talked a little about the ball. A lot about George's mong of a brother, and Hermione's feelings on the matter of his terrible behaviour. But no kisses. No hugs. No winks. While Hermione could admit she was a little disappointed, she was also relieved; George actually enjoyed her company, and for that, she was grateful.


	3. Chapter 3

Bit shorter than the previous two, but I needed to get this up! Please enjoy, and review!

George knew he was dreaming. He knew this because Hermione was in front of him, with her hands on his chest, looking at him with such lust written on her face he wondered how he hadn't taken her yet. Dream Hermione looked a couple of years older than Actual Hermione did. She was just as beautiful, but her curves were a little more obvious and her slightly more tamed. Dream Hermione couldn't keep her hands off George, running her hands over his chest and arms, seemingly fascinated with the muscles underneath his uniform.

George kissed her then, pressed his lips to her luscious soft ones; Dream Hermione gasped and pressed her body into his, kissing him enthusiastically. He ground his hips against hers, anything to get some friction going between them, to get some kind of relief from the tent forming in his trousers. Dream Hermione responded in kind, moving her hips as well, moaning just ever so slightly as he moved his lips to neck, sucking lightly in between kisses. He couldn't believe that he was kissing her – even if it was just a dream – and, best of all, she was kissing him back!

But then she pulled away. She un-melded her body from his, and looked at him. She couldn't meet his eyes as she spoke. 'George, I can't do this. I want Ron, and you'll never be Ron. I'm sorry' she uttered, avoiding his eyes, instead focusing her gaze on the floor between them. George woke up feeling sad and dejected; Hermione would never be his.

He saw her in the library, studying. Alone, as per usual; the boys weren't around as much after three new year. George never approached her – he couldn't work up the courage and he knew she would hex him if he interrupted her studying. He could see the dark circles under her eyes, could the see the way her hair was more frizzy than norm (caused by stress, no doubt), could see she looked bone tired. He left her alone anyway.

The few interactions they'd had all term were brief, and always involved other people – Ginny, Ron, Harry, Fred. Anything to avoid being alone with her, really. George couldn't stand the thought of seeing that awful look in her eyes from his dream that haunted him day and night. He couldn't stand the thought her rejecting him. But then, on Valentine's Day (George constantly asked himself what that day), she plonked into a chair at the desk he was using in the library. When she didn't say anything, he decided he wouldn't either. They studied in silence for hours, passing essays back and forth for the other to check over, and when curfew rolled around, they walked back to the tower together. And that was it. He had successfully made it through an interaction, if it could even be called that, with Hermione, and he hadn't even had the urge to kiss her. He wanted to of course, but after tasting her Dream Lips, he wasn't sure he'd be able to not kiss her. The real kiss was one thing, but the Dream Kiss – Dream Snog, really – was amazing. He was sure a Real Snog would be even better.

The silent studying continued, almost every night. Fred would study in the dorm with Lee, and George would head to the library. Almost an hour after he arrived, she would turn up, usually looking a little bit angry, and study alongside him. For weeks, they were silent, apart from the odd cough or throat clearing noises. And then it changed.

'George, do you think I'm pretty?' She asked, sounding hopeful and upset all at once. George knew he couldn't answer the question with the full truth – he thought she was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen, both inside and out, but he wasn't about to tell her that! – and pretended to think about it. 'Well, Granger, that all depends. Some people have a distinct idea of what pretty is, and some find different things pretty at different times, or find all different types of people pretty. I don't think you're pretty, Granger.' His tone was serious, and now she looked like she was going to cry. Fantastic. *well done George, you plank!* 'Granger, I think you're beautiful. But you're daft as a brush if you think that beautiful or pretty is a specific kind of standard. Everyone has differing opinions on it, you know. There's someone in the world who will think that Parkinson is beautiful, as unlikely as it sounds.' Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing – someone thinks Pansy 'purebloods are the best' Parkinson is beautiful, and George thinks that she, Hermione 'book worm' Granger is actually beautiful. It was a lot to wrap her head around, really. She didn't consider herself attractive, let alone beautiful, and as much as his words made her heart soar, she couldn't stop the voice in her head from telling her he was lying. 'Thank you, George. While your words are appreciated, I know they can't be true. But thank you for trying to cheer me up anyway' she packed her things and left. She didn't come and study with him after that.


End file.
